Excerpt: The Building of Facades

"Eighth grade will be different than seventh, I can assure you. Hopefully, for some of you, life standings will improve exponentially. Whether it be home,” he spared a glance at David’s table, his three students gazing at him steadily, wondering the extent of what he knew, wondering how observant he was, “or academic,” he stared at Konrad, who smiled angelically at him, “or social,” he raised an eyebrow at Judson, who studiously looked at the floor. “Every public school teacher I have met always emphasizes there will be more homework as means to prepare yourself for college.” He paused, “I will not do that because it would not be true. There will be less homework this year in order to prepare you for life—whether it be high school, college, or dropping out of school and taking a job; though I would be disappointed for most of you if your life was spent on the former option.

"You have received more homework here in a less manageable space of time than you will anywhere else, including college. The homework may have not seemed like much in quantity, and indeed, it wasn’t. But the work was challenging and took you just as long as fifteen times the amount would in public school.” He let was he had said so far sink in.

“But, as I was saying, you will have less homework to complete this year. Make no mistake, though, it will be more challenging. But it will also give you more free time, whether it be in school or at home. The reason is thus: it is to ask yourself what will you do? Who will you become?” He stopped and stared at his hands, right index finger tracing a small scar on the top of his left hand. He continued like this for many seconds, but no one spoke, merely waited patiently. He finally began again, his usually smooth voice a bit rough. Though if it was with emotion or a cold, no one knew.

“You have the chance to choose who you will be in the future. How you will shape your life. School is not life, academics is not life. Life is life. And life is different for each person. Each has their own struggles, each their own triumphs. Every one of you will change from the time you leave my classroom in June to the time you return ten years later for a reunion. Some may not return at all.” He sighed heavily, contemplating what to say next.

“What you choose to do in your spare time may seem be inconsequential now, but it will determine your personality. All of you have different abilities, all of you were unique when you entered the doors of this school at a young age and all of you are still unique. The only difference is that here you have honed your skills. Here you have made friends. And here you have learned. Your goal now is to apply what you have learned.

"Some say that academics do not prepare you for life; some say they do. I cannot judge that; and what I believe is of no consequence here.” Mr. Matthewson jumped off the desk and began walking to the lectern again, worn leather soles of his dress shoes whispering on the dark carpet. “But I want you to know something. What you choose is important. It will most likely not affect the world,” he laughed without humour. “No, people who believe that are not realistic. But what you do will affect you. So choose wisely.

"I said that you will have less homework that will be more challenging. I said that you will have less homework so you can choose what to do with your life. That is all true. What I did not say is this: Only I will be teaching this year, or at least your class. Mr. Cressell will teach younger classes with me, and perhaps sub for you, but you will have no more history unless we are thinking of the time you have lived. What we will do in here will focus on the future, not the past. Because the future is what is important.”

He smiled sadly, his eyes conveying most of his emotion as he looked over all the students he had taught for so long.

“So, your first assignment is this.” He turned to the whiteboard and began writing in large, capital letters. Elvira mouthed the words as the red marker squeaked against the board.

WHAT IS YOUR GREATEST WISH?

Mr. Matthewson capped the marker and walked calmly to his desk. Pushing out his old, wooden chair, he sat and opened a book. “By the way, this assignment is due on Friday. Any format is acceptable. Song, picture, essay, poem, prose, dance, anything. I expect it will take that long. You have every day in class as well as the time outside of school.” He looked down at his book and began to read, taking notes in the margins.

Tyler and Aubrey exchanged puzzled glances. Not puzzled over the assignment, but something else. It was Tyler who decided to voice the question.

“Mr. Matthewson,” she called to get his attention, only continuing when he looked up from his book, “how will this be graded?”

“Ah, yes, I expected that question. This is not a thing that can be graded on any usually criteria. I wish to say that it won’t be graded, but it will in a sense.” He fingered the page he was about to turn. “Let’s just say it will be graded on sincerity,” he finished.

Knowing that the topic was dismissed and she was to get to work, Tyler pulled out a notebook and pen and began to write. The rest of the group was instantly busy, beginning to write, draw, read, or grab a computer to research. That is, all but David, Regan, and Elvira, who simply stared at each other with paper on the desks in front of them and pens in hands.

Elise stared at them for a few minutes before she shook her head and began to write, carefully choosing her words to say everything without writing anything at all.